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clipartdinosaur · 3 months

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Griddlehark Fics

I have read an absolutely insane amount of Griddlehark fanfics in the past few months so I figured I could make a like...list of all of my favorites that I bookmarked. I'm not sure if anyone will use this but if anything it will be for my own self-indulgence LOL. Just a heads up, this list WILL contain spoilers up to Nona the Ninth, so proceed with your own discretion. Anyway here we go!

(♥︎ = favorite!)

Short (<15k):

"By the Sword" by JeanLuciferGohard (2.6k)

The Reverend Daughter of the Ninth, Necrosaint, Ascended, the greatest bone adept in an Age, does one push-up, and collapses. Harrow does not beg for her cavalier. Harrow rakes her hair back and snarls, “Nav, I am going to unzip your cranial sutures. One by one. And zip them up again sideways.”

"Your Necro Questions Answered" by Magichorse (8.8k)

Syndicated columnist "Nav the Cav" offers a sympathetic ear to cavaliers across the galaxy and dispenses practical, no-nonsense, real talk advice on how to properly manage and care for your necromancer.

"A Lesson in Bones" by Magichorse (3.8k)

One of the laboratory trials at Canaan House compels Harrowhark to swap bodies with her cavalier. What will Gideon do with the power of the most talented bone adept in generations at her disposal? Nothing good, probably.

"Visions of Gideon" by tothewillofthepeople (13k)

Oh my god they were roommates...

"true love's kiss, or something equally nauseating" by corpsesoldier (4.6k)

She was where she needed to be. She was going to pull her necro out of this godforsaken tomb, end the game of musical bodies they were playing, and then everything would be all right. Harrow would be alive. And Gideon was going to give her shit for approximately the next myriad for not just taking what she’d offered and saving them a whole lot of trouble.

"The Big Warm Dark" by decalexas (haelstorm) (2.7k)

Gideon Nav knows how to swing a longsword, brandish a rapier, bridge the gap between life and death, punch the dead in the face, and maybe overthrow an Empire along the way. What she doesn't know how to do is reach for the girl who made all of this possible.

"carrion comfort, despair (not feast on thee)" by NotAFicWriter (5k)

Some time after Alecto wakes, Harrow and Gideon finally have a moment to speak to one another. Hearts are bared. Teeth are bared. Intentions are bared. It all comes at great personal cost (emotional honesty).

"never exhale all the way" by pigflight (1.2k)

Harrowhark paints Gideon's face.

"such an almighty sound" by CountingNothings (10k)♥︎

“I need you to marry me,” Harrow says, a propos of absolutely nothing that Gideon can see. And, uh, okay, this is not what childhood best frenemies say to each other upon discovering that both of their graduate programs have weird residence requirements. “What,” Gideon asks, “the fuck?”

"A Handsomely Dangerous Thing" by zoicite (1.5k)

Had Harrow ever looked at Gideon and felt pride before? Surely not. It sat like a tumor in her chest, a cancerous lump that had grown where it did not belong.

"How it didn't happen" by Nary (1.5k)

"How did you lose it?" Coronabeth asked, more softly than her sister's shrill voice. The group assembled at Canaan House barely knew her, and yet here they were, asking the most irritatingly personal questions, and acting as if they were being kind and thoughtful by prying into her secrets. "I dropped my pen into a vat of acid and reached in to grab it without thinking," Harrow said dryly. Coronabeth recoiled, screwing up her pretty nose. Ianthe looked unsure whether to believe her or not. Their meatslab of cavalier just stared blankly. "The Daughter of the Ninth House was blessed in this manner from her birth, as a symbol of her strength and power over the mysteries of necromancy," Ortus interjected. Harrow glared at him. "Oh," Coronabeth said, an expression of disgusting sympathy on her flawless face. "But then you would never have known who your soulmate was!" Harrow's glare intensified. "My soulmate is bones."

"Halcyon Nights" by Morike91 (10k)

It was hard to tell what was worse: feeling the full warmth of those unguarded honey eyes fall on Harrow, or watching them narrow in recognition and contempt, their warmth now hotter with something else. “What can I get you?” It has been at least four years since Harrow last heard the voice of Gideon Nav, but it was still as familiar as her right hand.

"I completely fucking hate you" by ClaraZorEl (7.5k)

In the coming weeks, Harrowhark learns an unfortunate great deal about Gideon Nav. The kind of porn she likes, the number of bread rolls she can fit into her mouth at once, that she always leans too heavily on her left leg when she fights but can do fifty-seven push-ups in a row without stopping, that her biceps rates 11/10 on the scale of good biceps, that her laugh rumbles like an army of skeletons, and most importantly, that she can’t fucking stand her. Gideon Nav is so grating that Harrow has no doubt she will be her undoing. OR Harrowhark Nonagesimus has been invited to Canaan University's ball. But to successfully represent her house, she needs a cavalier, and unfortunately, her only option is her least favourite barista from her least favourite coffee shop.

"A Thousand Teeth, Yours Among Them" by pipistrelle (7k)

"In the end, she poisoned Ortus; so it was Harrow Nova who walked out to the shuttle a half-step behind the Daughter of the Ninth, the chain of Samael Novenary wound about her offhand wrist, the black blade of the Ninth at her side."

"The Only Prayer We Know" by pipistrelle (12k) [Part 2 of "A Thousand Teeth, Yours Among Them"]

It's like a bad joke: two cavaliers (alive) and two necromancers (one dead) walk into a rebel faction of humanity, looking for a new life -- in every sense of the phrase. What they find is each other, and (in some cases) themselves.

"The Flames of Hell Are Warm" by silverapples (7k)

In which Harrow is a repressed evangelical Christian and Gideon performs burlesque in a lesbian nightclub. Feat. nipple pasties, chewing gum, and a steaming mug of gay coffee (wake up and smell it, Harrow).

"Necro Business" by rnanqo (1.6k) ♥︎

“Gideon,” you said carefully, “I will need to examine your mouth. Various structures, primarily the jaw, but also the lingual muscles—the tongue—” You stopped there. Your cheeks were going red, probably with indignity. “Yeah,” I said, a bit too loudly, “yeah, sure. Do it.”

"Holy Cross, Alaska" by softieghost (10k) ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Harrow meets Gideon. They go through it together.

"my love will be your armor" by TheKnightsWhoSayBook (2.3k)

"The princess has a right to bestow her favor on whoever she wishes to win a match," Gideon tells her. "Are you going to?" "Why would I? I don't want to marry him," Harrow answers bitterly. "Do you want me to win?" Princess Harrow will be engaged to the winner of the tournament, and her only champion is her useless bodyguard Sir Gideon Nav, who isn't going to save her. Unless...?

"The Meaning Of The Word" by pipistrelle (8.4k)

Harrow, along with a good percentage of Canaan University's necromancy students, has the flu. Gideon has a lot of feelings that she is in no way equipped to handle. It's a tough week.

"(i shine only with the light you gave me)" by sashawire (1.7k) ♥︎

God prods, gently, “Even just starting with their physical description, and we can go from there.” “Imagine,” you say, from somewhere outside your body, “the worst shade of orange you’ve ever seen in your life.” * Harrowhark receives her saintly title.

"i will learn to love the shears" by corpsesoldier (4.7k)

The avulsion trial left Harrow's hair in a sorry state and Gideon offers up her expertise with a blade. Or, Gideon gives Harrow a haircut.

"The Titty Texts: A Work of a Stupendous Titty Nature" by EleniaTrexer (3k)

Gideon accidentally sends Harrow boobs. And then just keeps on sending them.

"can we start over?" by breeeliss (10k)

Gideon needs a tutor. Harrow needs someone to get her out of college gym class. All in all, a pretty straightforward arrangement to make with your ex.

"Dark Mode Enabled" by senseoftheday (12k)

Tech Company AU in which a certain Sales bro with no filter decides to ruin Harrow's life (and feature roadmap) by initiating the cross-functional project from hell. At least, Gideon has the decency to work remotely, and Harrow's new office crush makes some pretty great coffee.

"deconsecrated graves" by emotionsandphenomena (4k)

Gideon and Harrow got out of the cult they were raised in. Okay, what's next?

"settle up in heaven" by liesmyth (3k) ♥︎

“Isn’t this arrogance, Harrow?” Kiriona says. “Think you could fix what God couldn’t?”

"Quoth the Maiden" by Sarsaparilla (10.9k)

The bold outlaws Nova Hawk and Gideon meet for the first time on a narrow log-bridge. But is it really their first meeting? Or: what if Robin Hood and Little John were both lesbians?

"twice in a blue moon" by sinshine (8.7k) ♥︎

Gideon snapped out of her depressing reverie and blinked at her. "That's a really good idea." "Obviously," said Harrow, and it was only a little bit condescending. "Step one, sneak out of the party. Step two, acquire the necessary items at a store. Step three–" Harrow gestured vaguely at the deer in Gideon's hands– "And step four, profit." [G&H rush to fix a smashed snow globe that Dulcinea made so that Cam doesn't kill them before the clock strikes midnight at their NYE party. The fact that Gideon is back in her hometown after a long time away and she and Harrow have unresolved romantic tension is secondary and definitely won't be a problem.]

"It Came From Planet Slut" by LockedTombMemes (8k)

Well. Evidently going undercover to an Idan society fling in order to deliver a message to a high-profile BoE agent was a tits-out kind of look.

"Apostate's Yuletide" by sinshine (12.6k)♥︎

Gideon raised one eyebrow comically high. She smiled easily, erasing any hint of the anxiety that Harrow might have sensed. "What's with all the questions today?" Harrow huffed indignantly and fidgeted with the blanket draped across her lap, worrying the frayed hem with her fingers. "I thought your ego would appreciate the interest." "Yeah, but it's weird coming from you. I'm used to you monologuing, not playing twenty questions." "Perhaps it's a Christmas miracle," suggested Harrow, with an expression so absolutely devoid of joy that Gideon couldn't help but laugh. [Harrow and Gideon burn down a church on Xmas.]

"when it's over" by Adertily (2.5k)

Harrowhark had sworn to herself to live to see the girl in the locked tomb awaken. Alecto has risen. Now God is dead, along with everyone who had ever been dear to her - and Gideon has returned as a distorted creature. The war is over. Harrow wishes she could be too. Or: A character study based on Harrow's suicidal ideation and Gideon's determination to never run anywhere unless she absolutely has to.

"Supernova Bloom!" by sinshine (13k)

"It's just for a week, and then you never have to see me again," said Gideon. "I don't have time to find anyone else." And, "Please." Slowly, Harrow took her hand off the door and cautiously turned around. Gideon watched a dozen unspoken questions flicker across her face. She voiced none of them, but eventually settled on an expression of grim resignation. "I suppose I could suffer you for a week." [Gideon needs help getting her new flower shop ready for the grand opening. Harrow needs cash.]

"I still need your teeth around my organs" by sinshine (7.8k)

Although she was a beloved Daughter and a talented necromancer, Gideon's greatest vice was that she dearly loved to fuck around and find out. Knowing this, perhaps it shouldn't have been as shocking when she lifted one of Nova's hands, flipped it over, and kissed her palm. [4 times Gideon kisses Harrow, 1 time Harrow kisses Gideon]

"cuckoo, cuckoo" by sashawire (1.2k)

What Wake gives it is not a name. To do so would be a moronic, unnecessary cruelty. But she does deign to give it the microscopic dignity of a title, a goal, a purpose. Bomb. Eighteen years later, in the rubble of a once-sacred home, Harrowhark Nonagesimus reaches up and touches Gideon Nav’s grit-covered, blood-rimed face, splits a laugh like the world is ending, and calls her “flower.” * Six times God's unwanted daughter was nicknamed, and once she wasn't.

"my teeth will only cut your lips, my dear" by sashawire (<1k) ♥︎

Gideon chomps into her tongue as hard as she can convince herself, stifling a very dignified squawk. Her eyes water, Emperor’s left tit that fucking hurts, but—it works. Blood weeps from the bite marks, creeping down the back of her throat, up into her nasal cavity, staining her teeth. Okay. She has blood in her mouth. Blood that, somehow, needs to get into Harrow’s mouth. * Step #6: Consume the flesh.

"fifteen percent concentrated power of will" by surreptitiously (9k)

Teaching someone to do a push-up is a love language, when that person is very annoying.

"GHAZAL WHERE I'M BEGGING YOU TO TOUCH ME" by igneousbitch (12k)

You had your body and I had mine, and it was a miracle. Your hands against my face were a miracle. The rest of your meat attached to your hands was a prayer answered and a promise broken, but we were flush and gasping and alive, and Harrow—I really thought you might’ve kissed me then. But I felt it happen. The way your breath suddenly stilled, and your body locked up beneath mine, remembering. How with splintering gentleness, you pushed me away. “I’m so sorry,” was the second thing you said upon waking. The first thing had been my name. Stranded in a safehouse on an Edenite moon, Gideon and Harrow try to put themselves back together.

"catch you on the flip side, sugar lips" by corpsesoldier (4.9k)

Maybe if Harrow's brain runs enough scenarios, she'll find a way to keep what she's lost.

"hand to heart, I swear" by corpsesoldier (5k)

Gideon has a broken heart, and there's only one necromancer who can fix it.

Medium (15-30k)

"If you're doing it right you'll break their ribs" by almostnectarine (22.4k)

"How do you know Nonagesimus has gone somewhere dangerous?" asked Isaac. "Have you wired some kind of alert system?" "It's, uh. It's on the schedule," said Gideon. "I just... forgot. Because of the bread." Nobody was convinced by this, least of all Gideon. "It's a Ninth House thing," Gideon went on, backing away with increasing desperation. This was a slightly more plausible explanation, if only because nobody wanted to look too closely at what fell under the awful skeletal-ribbed and rotting umbrella of Ninth House things. "Gotta go—!" And she was out the door, gone. But it wasn't a Ninth House thing, except inasmuch as it was happening to the only two representatives of the noble and decrepit Ninth House on this quite literally godforsaken rock. Gideon knew Harrow had gone somewhere dangerous—knew that Harrow was back in the lab where they had only just completed a horrible trial—because she could see it, clear as day: an awful overlay on her vision of that terrible dangerous room and a pair of terrible dangerous hands drawing some kind of ward next to the plinth. The hands were definitely Harrow's. This was definitely a problem.

"If Home Is Where the Heart Is (Then We're All Just Fucked)" by JeanLuciferGohard (17k) ♥︎

When Gideon Nav gets a call that her ex-girlfriend, who never bothered to change her designated emergency contact, is in the hospital, she goes against her better judgement and responds. Everything after that just gets more complicated.

"blue gray green lavender" by smolranger (29k) ♥︎

Laser Radial sailor Gideon Nav just wants pass her classes, win a few regattas, and keep her head down. FJ sailor Harrowhark Nonagesimus has grand plans to qualify for the Olympics, preserve her parent's legacy, and save her home town. Despite the ties binding them together, the two have kept their college lives carefully separate for two years. But when Harrow's helm, Ortus, suffers a concussion mid-way through the fall season, their carefully separated lives collide. Harrow needs someone capable of taking Ortus' place for the remainder of the season or her Olympic dreams — and Canaan College's entire sail team — are in peril. And Gideon is her only option.

"Daughters of Hungry Ghosts" by zoicite (24k)

Harrow and Gideon and times they have (and also have not) shared a bed over the years.

"Disney World, Florida" by softieghost (24.6k) [Part 2 of "Holy Cross, Alaska"]

After the events of Alaska, Harrow thanks Gideon the only way she knows how: devotion. -- Chapter 3: The journey concludes. More confessions.

"we've got a good thing goin' " by sinshine (14.6k) ♥︎

“Not to sound ungrateful, but being here makes me wish that you had left me for dead,” said Harrow. Gideon had been staring hard at the face of the fountain’s statue. She was pretty sure that it was carved in the likeness of Naberius himself, but she didn’t want to say it out loud and make it true. She shook her head and turned to Harrow. “Leaving me to live out eternity in your bony sock puppet of a body? Hard pass.” Palamedes and Camilla shared a look. It was the mutual understanding of two people who had been trapped in close quarters with the bickering of Gideon Nav and Harrowhark Nonagesimus for far too long. [Team 69 hide out in Babs's vacation home. Because it's not like he's using it anyway.]

"Cake by the Ocean" by zoicite (15k)♥︎

Okay, so the thing was, Gideon had always been shit at plans. She knew that. Everyone knew that, but this--she really didn’t think it would be this hard! Gideon’s voice was like the least memorable thing about her. Bargaining her voice for a well-shaped set of human legs--that really should have worked in her favor.

"careful fear and (un)dead devotion" by sinshine (23k)

[Gideon and Harrow wake up back in their own bodies but both of them are missing large parts of their memory. Camilla tries not to kill everyone.]

"who ya gonna call?" by igneousbitch (24k)

“Fret not, honeybun.” Gideon shook her red hair out of her eyes, belligerent. “I’m not totally sold on your whole skepticism thing.” “Well,” Harrow said, ignoring the nickname. She turned to the rest of the room, clearing her throat politely before addressing the empty air. “Ghosts, if you’re real, give us a sign. Make a noise. Move something. Send a shiver down our backs. Whisper softly into Nav’s left ear—” “I seriously fucking hate you.” - (Casual sex and paranormal investigation. Not necessarily in that order.) (or: the Buzzfeed Unsolved AU in which Gideon is ready to fight a ghost, and Harrow just wants to be haunted.)

Long(>30k):

"Beneath a Blue and Foreign Sky" by zoicite (35k)

Harrow has a decision to make.

"A Heart Full Of Sutures" by Rohad (40k)

All Gideon wanted was to get outside and ride her motorcycle. No part of that plan had included eight weeks in Canaan Medical Center with a broken Pelvis and the meanest little doctor this side of the eastern seabord.

"Midnight at the Mithraeum" by zoicite (66k) ♥︎

It'd been two years since Gideon Nav gathered her wine key and her gaming license and escaped The Locked Tomb, a speakeasy-style cocktail bar managed by the hateful Harrowhark Nonagesimus. Now, dealing tables at The Mithraeum Hotel & Casino, things were really looking up. So when Gideon scored a date with the most beautiful showgirl in the Gilded Halls of Ida, the last thing she expected was to wake up married to her old nemesis and former coworker. The story starts the night of Gideon's date and alternates between the events leading up to the wedding and the weeks that follow as Gideon tries to navigate life married to someone who claims to want nothing more than to forget she exists.

"Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea" by pipistrelle (90k)

Being the journal of Reverend Daughter Harrowhark Nonagesimus, chronicling the journey of the Emperor's warship Cenotaph on its hunt to slay an immortal Resurrection Beast. Or: the Moby Dick crossover AU that nobody asked for.

"The Darkest Night, The Brightest Light" by eternaleponine (50k)

Harrowhark has known for a long time that her home's financial situation is dire, and not getting better. She has plans to fix it all, but can't implement them until she turns eighteen in a few months. When her parents announce that the best (perhaps only) way to save Drearburh is to marry off its heir, Harrow realizes the timeline has changed and she needs to take action now to save her home... and herself. Desperate times call for desperate measures, after all. Enter Gideon Nav. Detested foe, and Harrow's only hope.

"putting your fist through a thick sheet of glass (i know you don't want to)" by oretsev (46k)

Harrowhark Nonagesimus and Gideon Nav have always been at each other’s throats, and the animosity has only intensified since the death of Harrow’s parents. But when a car accident leaves Gideon without any memories of her past, Harrow sees a chance at the clean slate she’s wanted for years. Becoming involved in Gideon’s recovery assuages some of the guilt, but as she and Gideon become closer and increasingly involved in each other's lives, Harrow worries that some of her secrets may be more than she can atone for.

Ongoing:

"semi-charmed kinda life" by strangedelight (182k+) ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Gideon asked questions. Harrow surprised her with answers. They reached an agreement; they decided to be smart, to be patient. Gideon made a promise, Harrow gave her one in return. Wait and see. OR the year is 1994, and Gideon and Harrow leave their small town for life in the city. OR team 69 roommates au only this time it's the 90s

"Intern the Sixth" by apocalypticTaco (33k+)

ADDRESSING THE HEIR TO THE NINTH HOUSE, OR PRESUMED EQUIVALENT: PALAMEDES SEXTUS, HEIR TO THE SIXTH HOUSE, PRESENTS HIS COMPLIMENTS TO THE NINTH AND REQUESTS A FORMAL ARRANGEMENT WHEREIN HIS MASTER WARDEN AND CAVALIER APPRENTICESHIP UNDER THE NINTH FOR FOUR YEARS IN EXCHANGE FOR THE SIXTH’S SERVICES. *Details to be discussed. Please turn to back page. Timeframe variable. Services and agreements variable upon the Ninth's request. An internship of this caliber is highly unprecedented and likely unheard of, but any information valuable to the Ninth and into the Tomb will remain undisclosed upon request; Primary experience and study is required as the Master Warden has already decided upon such being his final thesis prior to his end studies. No takebacks, no denials. Pleased to meet you. Palamedes Sextus, Heir to the Sixth and Master Warden and Camilla the Sixth, Cavalier Primary and Warden's Hand of the Library

TO THE MASTER WARDEN: FORMALLY REJECTED.

"What's Eating Gideon Nav?" by labyrinthineRetribution (40k+)

After a miserable fifteen years at Blessed Saint Anastasia's School for Girls, Gideon's luck finally changes.

"We Have Always Lived in the Apartment" by labyrinthineRetribution (171k+)

John looks up from his Jack and Coke in drunken curiosity. "What's with the face, Harrowhark?" he asks, genuinely concerned. "Contrary to popular belief," Gideon butts in, "her face just fuckin' looks like that, bitch." She tends to use "bitch" as liberally as commas when off her ass. "You're piss drunk," you shoot back. "And you, my good bitch, are just as contemptible as the day you clawed your way up from Hell." - It is Harrowhark Nonagesimus' birthday, and it only gets worse from there.

PWP (basically):

"I'll hold in these hands all that remains" by corvidlesbian (6.5k) ♥︎

“Do you want me to try?” Gideon said. “What?” “You got all hot and bothered without me trying. Do you want me to try?” Their newfound habit of cuddling gets interesting.

"sting of a wasp" by brightbolt, imperfectlyctor (42k) ♥︎

"You’re a virgin,” Gideon said, testing it out. "Huh." Harrow didn’t like the sound of that huh. She knew Gideon’s noises, and that was a thoughtful, sinister huh. That was the same huh she’d made before putting canned tuna in Crux’s work boots. Her eyes narrowed. “What.” Gideon cocked her head to the side. “Is there a reason you’re waiting?” There was no judgement in the question— only genuine curiosity. Perhaps it was this that made Harrow more inclined to answer. “I don’t have the time to look for someone new,” She shrugged. “And my available pool is… somewhat limited.” “Well,” Gideon said, with just a hint of conspiracy in those glittering golden eyes. “If you ever want to change that, you have my number.” What? What? Harrow blinked. “What?” Or: the five times Gideon and Harrow successfully bone, and the one time they don't.

"Suckle, Honey" by zoicite (7.9k)

“You crave my juice,” Gideon accused. “I do not crave your juice.” “Fuck, you do though. You went off to explore that study alone, without your cavalier, using a key that I nearly gave my life for, and then you snorted some powder that made you crave my juice! Harrow. I never would have let you sniff powder from a ten thousand year old jar.” This was untrue--Gideon probably wouldn’t have noticed Harrow breathing in a puff of jar powder until it was too late--but it sounded like something Camilla Hect might say, so Gideon went with it anyway. Camilla definitely would have stopped Palamedes from accidentally sniffing old as fuck Eighth House jarred juice addiction powder.

"Five Times We Hatefucked and One Time We Didn't" by rnanqo (8k)

“Fuck you,” you said. “Fuck me yourself, you coward.” You ran a hand through my hair, fisted it, and pulled my head up. From here I had a spectacular view of your weird blown-out seething expression, like I was the worst thing you’d ever seen. Also a view up your blood-crusted nostrils. Choice. “Maybe I will, Griddle,” you said. “Maybe I will stop fucking you over and start fucking you." Gideon and Harrow realize, abruptly, that their hatefucking is no longer hatefucking.

"a call to motion" by groundedsaucer (coasterchild) (10k) ♥︎

Harrow and Gideon watch a porno.

"put her canine teeth in the side of my neck" by stranded_star (8.8k)

Harrowhark Nonagesimus is getting a PhD and a divorce. Against her better judgment, she goes out to the bar to celebrate and meets an incorrigible, absolutely ripped salt-and-paprika butch who takes her home and gives it to her good. To her horror, it's the best night of her life, and she sneaks home with her tail between her legs. Harrow has more important things to worry about - like raising her daughter and building the next stages of her career. But when her daughter's favorite teacher, someone named Griddle, turns about to be the Gideon she met at the bar, she's forced to contend with allowing herself (and her daughter) to find the happy ending she never thought they'd have. Featuring MILF!Harrow, Teacher!Gideon, and a very amused Camilla Hect.

"The Wound That Swallows" by seelieunseelie (7.8k)

Harrow can make out an uncomfortable amount of detail about Gideon’s body beneath. Powerful, strong as ever, yet somehow vulnerable for its supplication below Harrow’s. “Are we gonna get this over with?” Gideon says in a voice softly scratchy. She blushes then when Harrow sits on the edge of the bed. “It will hurt,” Harrow says. “Yeah,” Gideon says. “I think I can handle it.”

#holy shit this is way longer than i thought it would be #uhm i literally gave myself a headache i sat here for like 3 hours doing this #that being said if you have any fic recs lmk LOL #griddlehark #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #nona the ninth #the locked tomb #tlt #tlt fic #tlt fanfiction #griddlehark fanfic #rec #long post

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deadsetobsessions · 7 days

Text

Once more the hallucinations hit, and once more I am here writing it out.

My brain is fucking terrifying and I want out, so bad. This came to me in the form of a nightmare.

Also, please don’t take the timeline into consideration, because I have no idea what’s going on. Again, nightmares and dreams tend to not have the best coherency when it comes to plot and timelines. The reincarnation doesn’t have a name, I was too busy feeling terrified. Shit in parentheses was how I experienced the nightmare. Everything else is just me adding sprinkle sprinkle.

——

Ra’s al Ghul.

Talia al Ghul.

Two names that she had been aware of, in the peripherals of her hyper fixation. Two characters meant to enhance the story of the Dark Knight. Side characters, on a good day. Perhaps, a main antagonist on a better day.

On a bad day?

Main characters. Real, living people. Real, living, breathing assassins.

Unfortunately, they’re her new family. One she remembered coming into, bathed in a pool of blood and screams.

She was not a baby.

She is now, a baby. The first of Talia al Ghul’s children. The eldest, once Damian al Ghul was born.

Swaddled in emerald green and gold silks, she was presented to a man with silver streaked hair and a receding hairline. He too, was robed in green and golds.

“A daughter, Talia?” He rumbled, the smooth Arabic flowing out of his mouth failing to hide the acrid disappointment. The child, past the haze of confusion of suddenly being deported from her own adult body into one of a helpless child, felt a stirring of irritation. It’s good she learned the language, because now she knew exactly how Ra’s felt about her. The child grumbled a displeased sound. Not that she would have ignored the fact that her grandfather was Ra’s al Ghul. (He smelled like moth eaten fabric and blood- but I think that was because my cat accidentally scratched me.)

“My apologies, father.”

“Do not tell the young detective of this. Had it been a son, perhaps things would have been different. No, a daughter would only hinder him.”

Talia bowed, hands tightening on her daughter. “May I raise her, father?”

“A resource is still a resource. Go ahead, Talia.”

“Yes, father.” Talia took the dismissal and bowed before leaving.

On her way back to the room with the reincarnation’s crib, Talia al Ghul stroked her daughter’s head.

“I wish you were born a boy, my daughter. I am sorry my beloved will never know of you.”

The reincarnation looked at her new mother. She’s young, the woman-child realized. A teenager.

“You’ll have to be useful, my daughter. Your grandfather is not so kind as to keep the useless. I… do not wish for your death,” her mother muttered.

Great. She got new life and it’s already in danger.

——

She learned to swing a knife. Swords. She learned and devoured the teachings. She learned to be useful.

But then they asked her to take the life of a man who did her no wrong.

Her baby blues clashed with her grandfather’s Lazarus green.

She was still young. A child.

“No.”

“No?”

“He did no wrong.”

“He failed, granddaughter.” Ra’s smiled down at her, patronizing. Cruel. “Perhaps you possess your father’s heart, and you are foolishly sentimental, as women and children tend to be. But in the end, you are an al Ghul and you will obey. Plunge in your blade and I will reward you.”

The reincarnation looked at the man kneeling in front of her, resignation and a hint of pity in what little she could see of his face.

She’s already died before. What did she have to be afraid of?

“No.”

They tried to beat the weakness out of her. It didn’t work.

——

The reincarnation stared at the mirror, left alone in an opulent cage of gold and emeralds and precious stones that meant little to her now.

Her hands traced her back, small fingers finding purchase in soft skin. Her mouth opened fruitlessly, noise refusing to escape. She still felt the burning magic, the brand her own blood had carved into her skin and soul because she refused to kill. The chains her grandfather had shackled around her with magic and cruel amusement.

She had killed him, in the end. Obey, or be punished. Her body had moved without her permission, the reincarnation a prisoner in a body that refused to do as she commanded. The knife swung, a life taken, her hands dipped in red.

She learned a valuable lesson that day.

There were things worse than death.

“This is an order, granddaughter.”

The Magic had flared a searing heat at her neck, forcing her to kneel on broken legs. Ra’s loomed above, authority in his voice. She was bound to obey, regardless.

“You will never speak another word of affection, you will never speak another word to anyone unless I allow it. Perhaps this will teach you of your folly, and your place in this world.”

The loss of her freedom and the fear that came with it was a bitter and devastating lesson.

——

Ra’s al Ghul was so much worse than what little she knew of him.

She was right to be afraid for herself.

Her mother had worried, when she’d withdrawn and refused to speak to her. Even if she could, the reincarnation would not have wanted to. The reincarnation had felt furious, back then, when she thought of Talia. Her mother who refused to protect her. Her mother, who claimed she loved her but refused to see the chains Ra’s wrapped around her neck. She who plied the reincarnation with a supportive hand but forced her into the fighting pits.

But, as the reincarnation stumbled out on bruised and used legs from Ra’s al Ghul’s meeting chambers where he had allowed his business partners to partake in her, she realized that Ra’s was a monster in a human’s body and her mother was a victim of his making.

The lesson Ra’s taught her that day was that if she was not useful, if she did not kill, he would take what was left of her and make use of her.

Hate flared in her heart, and the beginning of Ra’s downfall began the day he let her go from the chambers alive. Injured, but alive. Injured and violated, but alive and furious.

——

She carved her hate and rage and helplessness and fear in the bodies of the people he bid her to kill. Her silenced screams were expressed in the way she splattered blood, the way she covered herself in it. A killing machine first, a stress reliever second, and a child… wasn’t on the list of things she was allowed to be.

His enemies were felled, one after another. He gave her his approval, something she detested.

But still, she continued, bodies racking upwards, tens turning to hundreds, hundreds edging into thousands.

The red in her ledger became ichor and guilt. Her language became violence and obedience.

“You have become a sharp tool, granddaughter.”

She was a genius, after all. And now, she could not disobey. A blade that Ra’s believed will never point towards him. She kneeled. She obeyed.

“Thank you, grandfather.” Her words were only allowed to come out- without searing, terrible pain- when she was thanking him. She tried not to do it as often as he wanted. He thought he broke her when he read the obedience she carved into her body language.

But she never bowed. Never. Not to him. Never.

——

“My weapon could learn much from your granddaughter,” David Cain sat across from Ra’s, wine in their stupid goblets. How she detested the green and blacks he’s seen fit to dress her with. She’s dressed provocatively, not of her own choice. She doesn’t have much of those- doesn’t have much in ways of choices- these days.

She was twelve, and Ra’s al Ghul deserved to die.

“Her combat is a higher form of what my daughter has achieved. How did you do it?”

When Ra’s began to reply, she slipped away.

She found the girl. She found… the cage- the black box- the child was placed in. The child flinched from her when she opened the metal box, fear only easing as the reincarnation kept her body language neutral and kind. (It was pitch black, and about the size of like, a closet. No light. Only from whatever door the box had.) (Cass’ hands hurt from banging on the walls to be let out)

David Cain’s daughter, her mind whispered, the memories of another life once more making itself known.

“Cassandra.” She whispered, regretting it immediately when pain wracked her body. She fell to her knees as the punishment for disobeying an order slammed into her.

The girl looked at her in concern, but did not move closer. The reincarnation stared at this girl and saw a reflection of herself.

David Cain would be here for a month. She will free Cassandra in those days.

——

The weapon stared at the girl in front of her, kneeling in pain.

She did not understand.

The girl came back. Water. Food. Kind.

The weapon felt warm. The girl was quiet. No sounds. Good. The weapon knew the girl understood. The weapon thinks that the girl is a weapon too.

The girl comes back, again. This time, she makes a sound. It hurt her, but she did it again. The weapon understands when the girl points at herself and repeats the sound. The sound means the girl. The girl expects something from the weapon.

The weapon makes the sound, flinching to see if the owner will come to punish it. The girl purposefully sits, relaxed but vigilant… and protective. Of the weapon?

The weapon relaxed. It repeated the sound, pointing at the girl.

The girl smiles, in pain. But approval. The weapon feels- the weapon is warm, like under the blanket. Approval.

The girl teaches her to make sounds but the weapon communicates without it. It does not like the sounds, does not need them, but the girl seems to think it’s important.

The weapon likes the girl, so the weapon learns. They still understand through no sounds, through reading each other.

The girl comes back, silently. Secretly. The weapon does not notify the owner. The weapon feels- does not want to.

The girl- the girl with the sound- she says a different sound. Her body tells the weapon that it’s important, this sound.

And when the girl points at herself and says her own sound, then points at the weapon and says that new sound again, the weapon begins to understand.

The girl had given the weapon her own sound.

“Cass—n- ra.”

“Cass,” the girl said, and Cassandra understood.

“Cass.” Cassandra pointed to herself.

The owner wanted- wanted Cassandra to end a life. Cassandra watched the owner kill and gesture to the dead thing.

Cassandra did not want to.

When Cassandra is placed back into the pitch black box, she waited for the girl.

The girl came.

“Don’t want.” Cassandra clung to her, reading the welcome and the sadness in the girl’s body. Cassandra tucked her face into the girl’s shoulder. She is cold. The girl is warm.

The girl hugged her back. The girl understood. Sadness hardened into lines of determination. Cassandra felt… light. Felt hope.

Cassandra slipped away from the place, water in her pack for the dessert and money to run from the country. The girl stayed behind, seeing her off. The girl tells her to never come back.

Cassandra did not want to leave the girl behind, but the girl could not go.

“Be free, Cass.” The girl had whispered through the pain. “For the both of us.”

——

Her grandfather knew. He allowed David Cain to break her, not kill because she was of use to him still, as a lesson. She found that she hated his lessons. But, she hated his attention more.

And still, she could not regret. How could she, when Cass trusted her with what fragile hope she had?

So, she lets him beat her, and provokes him with smirks and fearless eyes because the longer he’s focused on her, the more time Cass has to run.

Then, he gets too angry, and insults Ra’s, whose eyes grew cold. Her grandfather gestured and while she usually hated the command that followed that gesture, she could not feel that hatred now.

She got back up, legs broken and arms twisted once more, and attacked David Cain.

Ra’s would not follow Cass. Not when she was not his business to deal with, and not when David Carin’s fury amused him so.

David Cain would not follow Cass. Not while she still drew breath. The reincarnation stood, and threw herself at one of the best assassins of the century.

She tore his throat out with nothing but her teeth. She felt, for once, not like a monster. Not even when Ra’s nodded in approval and ordered for David Cain’s broken body to be cleaned up.

——

She’s been granted a mission in New Jersey, once her months of discipline- of torture- ended. She does not get ordered to find Cassandra. She’s fourteen now, and as silent as ever. Her mother had adjusted to her silence by then- long ago, actually, taking it as a quirk her daughter had developed. She hadn’t been a terribly vocal child, after all. Talia praised her for being useful even as a woman- the self degradation something the reincarnation had no doubt Ra’s had insidiously trained into Talia- and for being loyal to Ra’s.

Sometimes, she hates Talia for being- for-

Never mind. She couldn’t afford to hate anyone else.

She killed her targets early, determination and wistfulness urging her movements into sharp . Then, she made her way to Gotham and slipped into the city of darkness- where her father was.

She watched as he hid in the shadows almost as easily as she did. She watched as he flew and glided with the younger Robin. (He was younger than her by a year. She checked.) He was free. They were free.

She wished…

As she turned away, she saw a child tumbling from the edge of a roof. It was an instinct she’d thought Ra’s had managed to bury after the months he’d spent making sure she killed only children.

She hated him.

She caught him, swooping in and tucking him against her side as she plucked him from the air and plopped him back onto the crumbling roof of Gotham’s slums.

“Oh, thank you! So much- are you a vigilante?” The boy asked, looking at her masked face. It’s a good thing she wasn’t exactly dressed like a regular League operative.

She shook her head. Her eyes fell onto his camera, faint memories rising once more. She had an inkling-

“I’m- uh- Tim!” The boy introduced himself nervously, edging away from her silence. “Thank you for saving me…?”

She nodded. She pointed to the camera, tilting her head.

“Oh- you… want to see it?” He clutched his camera closer. Oh, he did have some sense of self preservation. She wondered why a seven year old was allowed to roam these streets… but she did worse at seven.

She held her hand up and back up. The boy hesitated, and then showed her the camera. “Uh- I took pictures of Robin and Batman!”

They sat on that roof for hours, and she let Tim Drake tell her stories about her father and his son. Ward. Son.

She could tell that Tim didn’t have anyone to listen to him.

She didn’t have long until she had to go back or risk severe punishment, but… she could make time for Tim, to listen to him.

She wondered if Cass managed to escape completely. She wondered if her sister all but in name and blood learned how to smile.

——

Tim had never had a friend before!

She listened to him! And gave him hugs the one time he was brave enough to ask! And she seemed to like Batman and Robin as much as he did! No one who didn’t like them would listen to his endless rambling otherwise, right? (Tim was super skinny, like ribs poking out skinny. He looked like a sickly Victorian child and he was kind of cold)

“And then, Robin went like this,” he pantomimed the awesome punch Dick Grayson did on a Joker goon. “And the guys got knocked out just like that!”

His new friend nodded, looking interested.

“Sorry, am I talking too much?” Tim asked anxiously. He didn’t want to make his friend hate him!

She shook her head, and gestured for him to continue.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded.

His new friend was so cool! She even taught him how to throw a punch and to fight!

——

When she had to leave, she prepared Tim for it.

“Do you have to go?”

She nodded and placed a hand on his head, ruffling his hair. Her other hand held a duffle bag with an assortment of weapons she carefully kept from him. (One of the blades still had guts on it, which, ew.)

“Try not to fall off anymore roofs, little photographer.” She said, smiling at his shocked look before leaping away.

“Wait, you can talk?!” He shouted at her back. She smiled a little wider.

——

“A son, this time.” Ra’s al Ghul’s voice echoed in his disgustingly flashy throne room. It rings of approval.

The reincarnation stood behind her mother, eyes cast downwards.

“Well done, Talia. I finally have a worthy heir.”

Damian al Ghul cooed.

The reincarnation was scared. But… she could not allow her younger brother to be trapped like she was. She’s fifteen now, a decade of slavery having worn her down and nearly broken her. But with her brother… no, she could not allow it.

She met her mother’s eyes and knew then that they agreed. Protect Damian, at all costs.

She ignored the sting of envy. So what her mother could not find it in herself to protect her daughter? So long as she protected Damian, it didn’t matter.

Maybe she didn’t matter. Maybe she wasn’t worth anything. Maybe- maybe- maybe.

She also ignored the seed of disgust she had for mother’s actions in conceiving Damian. She couldn’t do anything about it. Talia was also a victim.

A louder voice in her asked if she could really excuse that, when Talia had a choice and she chose to hurt and violate Bruce Wayne like that. She wondered if she could truly ever forgive Talia. She wondered if Bruce Wayne got therapy.

——

She stared at the tome in front of her, eyes blank. (Actually, she had no eyes. Like? Empty sockets, but then later she had eyes???)

The brand- the shackles- the chains could only be broken if Ra’s died. She wasn’t opposed to that. But if he died, so did she. She couldn’t even kill herself to get out, because the chains would be there even if she died. If she was revived- a high chance, thanks to the fucking pits- then the chains would still be there.

Perhaps… she could use the pits?

Her mind turned and turned.

——

“This is your ukht.” Her mother pointed at her. Damian stared up at her, and she melted. Her brother was too damn cute.

“Ukhti?”

She nodded as her mother smiled in joy. “Yes, habibi.”

She was better at hiding the pain, now. She was better at enduring it, too, that fucking burning feeling. She spoke more, but only to Damian.

It would not do for her brother to grow up not knowing how to receive verbal expressions of affection. Not like she did, in this life.

Still, it hurt to speak. But then, she had an idea, based on Cassandra.

She could not speak, but speaking wasn’t the only way of communication. She’ll teach Damian sign language- standard, as commanded- but also her own version. Yes, she could do it. It wouldn’t be hard.

She was a genius, after all, and creating languages wasn’t as hard as people seem to think.

——

Damian copied her, small fingers patting his hand four times.

She did it back to him. “I love you.” She tells him, with sounds and with motions.

He does it back, excitedly, because he had a secret with ukhti!

——

Sometimes, she dared not to touch Damian. She wants to ruffle his hair and give him hugs but the ichor on her hands reminds her to not get to greedy. She did not deserve it.

Not when her hands were stained with the lives of so many people.

——

Another mission.

She was twenty now, and not much closer to escaping her bonds. Though, once she hit her majority, Ra’s lost interest in her in that way. A blessing, even if she had to seduce his “business partners” into giving him better deals more often now.

She stops by Bludhaven. The Robin she watched so many years ago- six, by her count- had grown new wings and moved. She wanted to see if he could fly still.

He could. He flew as free- no, freer than his days as Robin.

She dipped away to complete her mission (nuclear weapon trading, really?) and swings back to see a spider trying to break the former Robin’s wings.

“No.” Nightwing whispered, staring upwards at the cloudy sky blankly. “Please, stop.”

She didn’t need to hear any more. She saw red, and dove feet first straight onto the spider’s head, knocking her out.

She picked up a near-catatonic Nightwing, and helped him to his apartment. She left Tarantula in the rain and felt zero guilt about it.

He changed mechanically, some kind of instinct keeping him from removing his domino, but it was a bit pointless considering she escorted him to his personal apartment.

She watched as Nightwing slipped into an exhausted sleep before leaving. She had a spider to squish, and traces to hide.

——

Dick wakes up, drained and exhausted. He… someone saved him.

He sees a scrawled note, handwriting impeccable enough to be a font, written with his pen. He picked it up from his table, and his eyes tiredly read the message.

“Don’t worry about Tarantula. Or your identity.”- A friend.

He remembered- the mask- the mask of the stranger that saved him vividly. He’d remember. And he’d thank them if they ever came back.

——

She was in charge of training assassins, these days. A year and a half later after Bludhaven, she was back in Nanda Parbat, and she’s devoured every magical tome she could get her hands on. They all say the same things.

Her assassins were trained well, and Ra’s praises her with more responsibilities as he followed the pit in his obsessions. Her mother began to splinter the group, not knowing that as Ra’s began his descent into madness, people looked towards her instead of Talia for leadership. They did not know that her unwavering presence by Ra’s side wasn’t voluntary but it is their true that she became his right hand out of pure skill. And flawless obedience, of course.

Then, someone new joins.

Someone with pit rage and empty eyes that goes rigid when she approaches.

Then again, most of the operatives freeze up when she walks towards them.

Her memories roar. A child.

He bowed, and her eyes followed the streak of white hair at the forefront of his skull.

She gestured at him to follow, and ignored the pitiful eyes the rest of the assassins gave to the kid- they act like her training was hard when she went easy on them (it was)- and led the kid towards the training rooms.

She knew who he was, even if her grandfather and mother didn’t think she knew.

Her… Bruce Wayne would probably appreciate his son being returned relatively sane.

But first, she had to beat the Pit out of him. Then, she could assign body guarding duties to him, in an attempt to protect him.

——

“Grandfather, I will take Damian’s punishment.”

“A whipping girl, granddaughter?” But he nodded anyways. He made Damian watch.

She kneeled and allowed the punishment. She couldn’t always protect him from Ra’s, but this she could do anytime. It’s not like she was unfamiliar with the torture. (The whip had barbs. Rusty. And they sprinkled salt.)

——

“I liked poetry….” Jason Todd tells her after a training session. “I think.”

“Sure. I’ll call you Grave, then.” Pain. But she was used to it.

He tilted his head, eyes going blank once more. She sighed. There went his memories again. (His eyes were blank and glazed. Like looking at someone you love and knowing they’re looking through you.)

——

“I would not trust her,” she says to the air, next to a Red Hood emerging from Talia al Ghul’s chambers. She could see it, the beginnings of Gotham’s new crime lord. But still, “Talia al Ghul is known for her lies.”

She pushed away from the wall. It was up to Grave if he listened. It was out of her hands now.

——

She’s twenty-five, and she’s helping Damian pack for his first meeting with Bruce Wayne.

“You must not tell him about me.” Because he’d come rushing here, and she had worked too hard to save Damian for her fool of a father to come and ruin all of that effort.

“I promise.” Her little brother said solemnly. Ukhti said it out loud, which meant it was important and she expected him to keep that promise.

The only other time he’d heard her speak was to tell him she loved him.

The reincarnation smiled and told him through their special sign language, to treat the current Robin with respect and to try his best to get the current Robin to pass down his title.

‘Robin is earned. They have different rules, over there. Try your best to learn those rules.’

Her brother was sheltered. She loved him, but he was spoilt and sheltered. Of course she was worried. Talia barely mothered him.

“I know. You do not have to remind me so often, ukhti.”

She smiled, and patted his head.

“Be safe,” she whispered. “I will miss you.”

Damian darted in for a hug. “Of course. Goodbye, sister. See you soon.”

She hoped not. It was hard enough to convince Ra’s that Damian would learn more under Bruce Wayne.

(She was locked in a small closet- like Cass- for about a week, because she brought up the idea first.)

——

She found it.

The answer to pit rage laid in an old, all but crumbling tome from Atlantis- answers “from a ghost.”

——

Bruce Wayne died. Months after Damian came to live with him. That- irritating- she sighed and worked with her mother to turn Ra’s al Ghul’s attention away from Gotham, lest he called Damian back in Bruce Wayne’s absence.

The little photographer caught grandfather’s attention. She stood vigil as he played chess with Ra’s. His interest in Damian wavered. Anticipation blurred in her veins.

She saved his friends. Her assassins. She let them go, telling them to wait for the little photographer’s plan. (Y’all miss girl had fucking bloody handprints on her pants like someone tried to grab it.)

The first few people who had an inking she might not be loyal to Ra’s… and it was them.

When her other assassins attacked Red Robin, she cut them down before they could touch him, helping him with a furious League of Spiders or whatever operative. She hated spiders.

“What…?”

“You’re a lot of trouble, little photographer.” She sighed. His jaw dropped.

“It’s you!”

“Go,” she cut him off. “Blow this place up. I left a surprise for you outside.”

——

“Owens?! Z?!” Tim trembled, exhaustion and shock and wonder hitting him at once.

“Heya, boss!” Z chirped. Owens helped Tim up while Z helped Tam. Pry walked around them, looking out for further threats. “The nightmare trainer let us go. She knew you, I think.”

Tim smiles, all shark teeth and zero hero. (In the background, the song zero to hero from Hercules 2, played in reverse.) “Tell me more.”

——

Damian grunted, bracing himself for the magical creature’s attack.

“Robin!” His father barked out, panicked. Damian hoped he’d survive-

Shhhlk!

He looked up and there stood his ukht. She bounded forwards, using the odd fauna of the magical plane to bolster her movements as she sliced the creatures apart with her swords, magic humming brightly as she cut through them… and the magicians attacking them.

“What- what are you doing here?” He asked. She greeted him, three fingers curled over her shoulder.

‘My question is,’ she signed. ‘Why were you here without a magical weapon.’

Damian sighed as father stepped in between them.

“Who are you.”

“Batman. Cease your excessive worry. I trust her with my life,” Damian snapped. He stepped around a shocked Batman, looked him in the eyes, and unsheathed his katana. He handed it over to his ukht, who took it with amusement.

‘See?’ His eyes seemed to say. Father tensed when his sister unsheathed her own blade and handed it to him.

‘Are you here for a specific reason?’ His sister signed to him.

“Uh, you gonna introduce us, little man?”

Damian sent the Flash a derisive look and ignored him.

“We’re looking for a magician. He set a squadron of demons loose into D.C. last night. He has a tower.” Damian added.

“Robin,” Father growled. “Who is this.” Damian shot him a look and turned back to his sister.

The reincarnation tilted her head. ‘Tower… it’ll have to be that way.’

“Could you take us there?” Damian asked. Truthfully, he could find the way himself. But he wanted more time around his ukht. She nodded and Damian straightened.

“I feel like we should be concerned that Robin’s friend just murdered a bunch of people.”

His sister glanced back and ignored them.

“Silence, incompetents. Speak another word against her, and Batman’s no killing rule will be applied creatively.” He hissed. (The fucking surroundings hissed with him y’all what the fuck)

He turned when his sister ruffled his hair (Superman muttered a super shocked “what the fuck.”) and Damian allowed it. He had missed his sister.

——

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